


if you will please, fall in love (with me)

by binchmarner



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Baking as a Coping Mechanism, Christmas Fluff, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binchmarner/pseuds/binchmarner
Summary: Tyson thinks he's found his soulmate in the new team rookie, Cale Makar. He makes the mistake of inviting him over to bake cookies for his family, when Tyson learns something that'll change his life, hopefully for the better.
Relationships: Tyson Barrie/Cale Makar
Comments: 12
Kudos: 92





	if you will please, fall in love (with me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PeaceSign_MiddleFinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceSign_MiddleFinger/gifts).

> This is an old story from earlier last year that I was talking to my bumble bee about, and I just got the spoons to finish it! i hope you like it, oh bumbliest bee. No betas we die like men.
> 
> Title of the story comes from the song [would you be so kind (live)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKz_fMAbtCw) by dodie.

So Tyson has a problem. Like, a big problem.

Like an “I’ve created enough different types of Christmas cookies that I could feed everyone in the Pepsi Center” problem. Which is… incredibly specific, but it’s the problem he has.

“Don’t you think this is kind of excessive?” Nate says, looking around Tyson’s kitchen, at the tons and tons of little bags of cookies. “It’s just a smell.”

Tyson looks up from where he’s folding sifted dry ingredients in with the wet ingredients, and Nate actually blanches. “You don’t _understand,_ Nathaniel––”

“My name isn’t Nathaniel––”

“This smell has been haunting me for almost an _entire year._” Tyson says. “I’ve been baking all year, different kinds of cookies that might smell close to what I’ve been smelling, but it’s––I can’t even begin to explain it. And anyway, the Christmas party is coming around soon, and Sam has a sweet tooth. They’ll be gone before I know it.”

Nate rolls his eyes. “Maybe it’s toppings. Like that shiny chocolatey stuff you put on a cake. Besides, what’s baking like you’re preparing to audition for Top Chef going to do about it?”

“You mean Great British Bake Off. And, because if I know what it smells like, then I can bake it, and when I bake it the craving will go away,” Tyson says, looking down and away from Nate. Nate furrows his eyebrows.

“I carpool with you, dude. You always crave cookies right after you go to the arena,” Nate says. Tyson rolls his eyes, his cheeks flushing. He sets down the bowl and turns to face Nate.

“It’s… it’s like,” Tyson begins. “I think I found my soulmate?”

“On the team?” Nate asks.

“They’re somewhere. I just––whenever I’m around one of the guys, it smells like home, and Christmas, and this one thing I can’t put my finger on,” Tyson says. “And the smell is something close to baking and I can’t figure out which cookie it is.”

“Well, the only new person who’s come in is Cale, and––” Nate says, but is cut off by Tyson groaning and covering his face.

“I know, I _know_,” Tyson says, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “It’s a problem.”

“It doesn’t have to be a problem,” Nate says, picking a chocolate chip cookie up and taking a bite. “_Fuck_, these are good.”

“Well, I like him, like a lot. What if I find out that it’s not him?” Tyson asks, his cheeks flushing. “It’s a risk I’m not willing to take, nope, no. Been there, done that with Gabe, got the t-shirt to show it.”

“Oh. Well, that’s––”

They’re interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Who’s that?” Nate asks. Tyson’s cheeks flush as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“_Fuck,_ I told Cale I’d help him bake cookies to send back home. That’s probably him,” Tyson says, flushing darker when Nate raises an eyebrow at him.

“You’re kidding, right?” Nate asks, laughing. “God, you are so––”

“Oh, get out.” Tyson says, batting his hands at a cackling Nate. “Let the kid in.”

“Later,” Nate says, walking out of the kitchen. Tyson hears the door open and Nate starting to laugh, and then the door closing.

“Hey, I’m here,” Cale calls, and Tyson goes back to folding the ingredients more forcefully than he probably thinks is necessary.

“In the kitchen!” Tyson calls, setting the spoon in the sink and putting a dish towel over the bowl. 

He’s getting ready to put the batter in the fridge to cool when the smell of snickerdoodle cookies completely overwhelms him. 

“That’s it,” Tyson says, turning around to see Cale looking… incredibly confused. “Warm snickerdoodles.”

“Excuse me?” Cale asks, furrowing his brows. “Is everything okay? Are you having a stroke? Wait, no that’s toast. But seriously, should I get a doctor?” 

It takes Tyson a moment to realize that Cale actually spoke to him. “Yeah, yeah. No, yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Yeah, okay? Because I thought we were making chocolate chip cookies, not snickerdoodles,” Cale says. Tyson can’t breathe, he can’t breathe because all he smells is baking at Christmastime, and he just––

“I’ve gotta go upstairs. Get a new apron, this one is filthy,” Tyson says, dashing out of the room and up the stairs. “You stay in the kitchen!” he calls back.

As soon as he gets in his room, he pulls out his phone and calls Nate.

“Nate, Nate, _Nate_,” Tyson hisses into his phone.

“I’m driving, Tyson,” Nate says, uninterested. “There’s snow, and I’d like to not get a ticket or crash.”

“Ok, ok, ok, real quick, _Cale’s the guy_,” Tyson says, untying the apron from around his waist.

“Dude. I could’ve told you that,” Nate says. 

Tyson makes an indignant sound. “Wh-Well then why didn’t you?” he asks, his voice pitching higher and higher.

“Because you wouldn’t believe me if I did,” Nate says. Tyson’s mouth is open to protest but Nate cuts him off, “don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t.”

“You’re supposed to be _helping me!_” Tyson whines.

“Then go kiss him!” Nate exclaims.

“Just because that worked for you and EJ…”

“Look, EJ kissed me first.”

Tyson groans. “I’m divorcing you. You’re no help.”

“We were never married,” Nate says, and Tyson can hear him rolling his eyes. “Besides. You want Cale anyway.”

Tyson makes a high pitched sound that he could only describe as a squeak as he drops his phone. “Literally get fucked,” he says when he picks it up.

“I’m _on my way to_,” Nate says. 

“Oh my god, ew. Goodbye.” He hangs up and turns to his closet. Because of course the only clean aprons that he has that aren’t a half naked guy in a speedo––thank you, Nate––are packed in a box high up in his closet. 

He hadn’t needed it until now.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and Cale walks in. “Is… everything okay? I heard some screaming.”

Of course, of _course._

“Yeah! No, I just–– my other aprons are up higher than I thought they were,” Tyson says, because on one hand it’s kind of true, what the fuck, and on the other hand he’s gotta come up with something other than _I was freaking out because your scent has been haunting me for an entire season, thank you._

He hears footsteps and suddenly Cale is _right there_, pressed up against his back as he reaches and grabs the box easily. Cale puts a hand on Tyson’s waist to steady himself and Tyson makes a strangled noise you couldn’t pay him to make again.

_Cool, cool, cool. I’m gonna get an awkward boner around the rookie who smells like fresh baked cookies,_ Tyson thinks, but then––

Cale just stands there, close enough to smell Tyson’s scent and god, can this just be over please?

“So!” Tyson begins, but he’s cut off by Cale.

“Did you know you smell like chocolate?” Cale blurts out, and then groans, hiding his face in Tyson’s neck. Tyson flushes, knowing his scent is probably stronger with his anxiety, but Cale… isn’t moving away. Cale noses up right behind Tyson’s ear and Tyson lets out a little moan.

“Cale…” he whimpers as Cale’s lips brush over Tyson’s neck. He doesn’t even realize he says it until Cale freezes. He’s about to apologize when Cale presses his lips to Tyson’s neck deliberately. “Fuck, _Cale._”

Cale wraps his arms around Tyson’s waist and growls softly, sucking a hickey in a place on his neck where Tyson _definitely_ won’t be able to hide. “I’ve been craving chocolate for months, always when you’re in the room. And now I know why.”

“I’ve been trying to bake cookies that––oh fuck, _Cale_––smelt like the cookies I smelt in the locker room but I could never figure it out. God, the smell is _you_, Cale,” he moans as Cale runs his hand down Tyson’s belly and cups his dick through his pants. 

Tyson pushes back against Cale, grinding against him. He smiles when Cale groans into his neck. “Oh, fuck. Dirty pool.”

“Who’s the one with the hickey on their neck that they’re going to have to explain later?” Tyson says, but he can’t help but laugh. Cale chuckles.

“You got me there,” he says.

Tyson turns around because he needs to kiss Cale immediately. It’s sweet, the press of their lips together, though it turns desperate and filthy in a matter of seconds, like they can’t get close enough to one another. Tyson tries to get Cale to walk back to Tyson’s bed, but neither of them can stop kissing for even a second, so Tyson ends up having to be the adult, scary as that may be.

“Ok, I _really_ like this, but the first time I have sex with you is not going to be five feet from my bed because we couldn’t make it that far,” Tyson says, pointing at his bed. Cale flushes, ducking his head.

“I was going to offer to blow you but––”

“I want you in me, Makar,” Tyson says bluntly, and Cale chokes on his breath. “Oh, you like me asking you? _Please_ Cale, I want you in me. Fuck me, _please._”

“Fuck,” Cale groans, sitting down on the bed and dragging Tyson down onto his lap. He pulls at Tyson’s shirt, smiling when Tyson laughs, taking his shirt off. 

Cale takes his shirt off without hesitation, leaving Tyson to kiss and nip at the flush growing on his collarbones. “Hey,” Cale says weakly, and Tyson can feel his hard dick against his ass. 

“Yeah?” Tyson asks, his voice breathy and sultry as he rolls his hips down, eliciting another groan from Cale. Tyson’s laugh cuts off in his throat though, when Cale turns them over, pinning Tyson’s hands to the bad. 

“You gonna fuck me good, Cale? Pin me to the mattress and gimme your knot?” Tyson asks, grinning as Cale’s cheeks go from pink to red to burgundy, the flush traveling down his neck.

“How is this fair?” Cale says, and Tyson thinks he’s on the verge of pouting, when he ducks his head in Tyson’s neck, rolling his hips against his. 

“_Fuck,_” Tyson whines, struggling against Cale’s grip. He wants to move his hand, run it through Cale’s hair, grab his ass, make him _go faster_. He feels himself slicking up as Cale nips and sucks at his neck, making marks that Nate and EJ will fine him to hell for later. “Please, Cale, c’mon.”

“Alright, alright,” Cale says, and his voice is considerably deeper, rougher. Tyson’s dick jumps as he listens to it. He tugs at Tyson’s pants, and for once–– for once! ––Tyson’s grateful he wore sweatpants when expecting guests. “Did you expect this was gonna happen?” Cale smiles.

“Honestly? I had no clue my soulmate was you,” Tyson says. He sits up, tangling his fingers with Cale’s for a moment. “But I’m glad it is.”

Cale smiles, pressing a kiss to Tyson’s lips before pulling his pants and boxers the rest of the way off. “Lube?” he asks, looking rumpled and disheveled as he gets up off the bed to take off his pants. 

Tyson’s lost for a moment in the hickies blooming on Cale’s fair skin. “Uh,” he says, snapping out of it. He leans over to grab the bottle and a condom from the drawer in the bedside table and tosses them to Cale. “Here.”

“You use this often?” Cale chirps, uncapping the half used bottle of lube and squirting some on his hand. 

“Yeah, definitely,” Tyson says without remorse. “Think of you while I do it.”

Cale rolls his eyes, warming the lube up. “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready all season, Calesy,” Tyson croons, laughing when Cale groans and leans his forehead on Tyson’s chest, laughing. 

“I fucking hate you.”

“That boner sure says differently, bud.”

“Shut up,” Cale says, but there’s a quirk of his lips that makes Tyson’s stomach tie in knots the same way it's done all season. 

“You love me,” Tyson grins. “C’mon, do you want me to start begging?”

“I don’t think I can handle begging yet,” Cale admits, and something dangerous in Tyson’s belly jumps at a possible yet. “I’m already gonna be embarrassingly quick.”

“We’ll just have to do it again,” Tyson says, spreading his legs for Cale. “Oh, the horror.”

“You’re hilarious,” Cale deadpans, but leans forward to push his finger in slowly. 

Tyson lets out a groan, adjusting to the stretch as Cale pushes to his knuckle. “Go ahead, I’m good,” he says, biting down on his finger. He can smell Cale’s scent grow heavy, needy, and Tyson’s fucking drunk off of it. 

“You smell amazing, I can’t even––” Cale says, pushing another finger in and curling them. Tyson whines, back arching off the bed as he fucks back onto his fingers. “God, you smell so fucking good, the best thing I’ve ever smelt–– chocolate cookies or lava cake, oh fuck, you’re like, _delectable_.”

Tyson’s cheeks flush, Cale’s sweet words sending his sensitivity into overdrive. He curls his fingers again and hits the spot that makes Tyson’s core tense, and he lets out a loud whine. “Cale, please!” 

“One more finger, that’s it baby,” Cale says, pushing a third finger in.

“I’m gonna break this soulmate bond if you don’t _get in me_ now,” Tyson whines, his eyes squeezed shut. The inside of his thighs are covered in slick, and he’s desperately close to begging.

Cale chuckles, his voice raspy. “Okay, okay,” he says, and if Tyson wasn’t so needy right now, he’d focus more on that laugh. However, that’s a thought for later Tyson, as Cale rolls the condom on his dick and slicks himself up. 

As the blunt head of Cale’s dick presses against Tyson’s hole, Tyson has a dirty wish that Cale was fucking him without a condom. That thought sends a spark of electricity through Tyson’s body, and he curls his fingers in the sheets in anticipation.

_Let’s get through this round first, Tys._

Cale pushes in slow, and Tyson realizes for the first time how _big_ Cale is. “Oh, fuck,” Tyson whines, keeping his breathing steady.

“Everything okay?” Cale says, his voice strained as Tyson adjusts. 

“Keep. Going,” Tyson breathes heavily. “Please.”

Cale lets out a groan, throaty and possessive, and Tyson wonders for a moment how intense his heat is going to be with Cale when it hits. Cale grips Tyson’s hips harder, and Tyson notices that Cale’s scent has gotten heavier–- seems like Tyson’s not as good at hiding his thoughts as he thought he was. 

When Cale bottoms out, Tyson takes a couple seconds to adjust before wrapping his legs around Cale’s waist. “C’mon, give it to me.”

Cale chuckles, pulling out and fucking in hard. Tyson gasps, reaching up and gripping his headboard for support. He’s been on the knife’s edge of orgasm since Cale pulled him on top of him, and it gets worse as Cale hits Tyson’s prostate repeatedly with a reposition of his legs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Cale,” Tyson begs, gripping white knuckled to the headboard. “Harder, harder, Alpha, _please!_”

“Shit, you can’t just say stuff like that, Tys,” Cale says, leaning down to kiss Tyson deep. Tyson nips at Cale’s lower lip, drawing moans out of him. “You’re killing me.”

“Make me come, then,” Tyson says, whimpering as Cale wraps his hand around his cock, jerking him off in time with his thrusts. 

“I’ve thought about you,” Cale says, his chest a brilliant red. “While getting off. I’ve thought about your thighs and your voice, _god_.”

Tyson can barely find it in him to be smug, clenching down around Cale. He’s trying his hardest to stave off his orgasm, but Cale talking to him about desperately getting off to just his existence is almost enough to send him over the edge.

“God, I’ve thought about,” Tyson begins, biting his knuckle to hold back a whine. “About kneeling in the shower, about you fucking my throat and coming across my face–– fuck, I’m close...”

“Shit––” Cale whimpers, speeding his hand up. He jerks Tyson off once, twice, three more times before Tyson’s back arches off the bed. He comes hard across his belly and over Cale’s hand. 

“C’mon, come in me, please,” Tyson says weakly. 

Cale growls, his thrusts becoming more erratic and less precise, thankfully missing Tyson’s oversensitive prostate. In a handful of thrusts Cale is groaning, biting Tyson’s collarbone to muffle his moans as he comes hard. 

It’s a comfortable silence between the two of them as they come down from their respective highs. Cale, ever the gentleman, pulls out and rolls to the side, making sure to discard the condom before rolling back over.

“Go team,” Tyson says. “That was awesome.”

He looks over to Cale, who’s smiling fondly. “You’re such a nerd.”

“Okay, honors college boy,” Tyson says, poking Cale’s side. Cale jumps, grabbing Tyson’s wrist and pulling him close. Tyson hums, tucking himself close in Cale’s side. 

He almost thinks he can go to sleep, until he comes to the realization that he feels increasingly disgusting and sticky. He makes to move when Cale kisses behind his ear and hums. “Let me.”

“If you insist,” Tyson says, rolling back on his back. Cale walks into the en suite bathroom and wets a towel, coming back and cleaning him off gently. 

“Better?” He asks, cleaning his hands off. Tyson grins sleepily.

“Much,” Tyson says, though the word is cut off by a yawn. He makes grabby hands at Cale until he slips under the covers with him, then makes himself comfortable tucked back into his side. “Sorry our cookie baking session turned into sex.”

Cale looks increasingly amused when Tyson looks up. “Only you would be upset about that.”

“I resent that remark,” Tyson says. “I _meant_, I’m sorry you don’t have cookies for your family.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right,” Cale says, yawning.

“Guess you’ll just have to stay until tomorrow, and we can try again,” Tyson says, grinning. 

“Odds that we’ll just have sex again?” Cale asks. 

Tyson hums. “I’d say 70/30.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Cale says, wrapping his arm around Tyson’s waist, falling asleep between one breath and the next.

**Author's Note:**

> outtakes:
> 
> Nate coming over the next day to see the kitchen in shambles and leaving immediately. 
> 
> "we're clothed!" Tyson calls out.
> 
> "I don't wanna hear it!" Nate says, covering his eyes.
> 
> "We had a dough fight!" Cale says, laughing.
> 
> "I don't want to hear about what the two of you get up to! Congratulations on your new relationship, use cold spoons on your hickies or EJ'll fine you. Bye!"


End file.
